


Fear of Growing Apart

by silentid



Series: Psychotic Trio [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Bad Parenting, Blood, Incest, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Sibling Incest, Slurs, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5551811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentid/pseuds/silentid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The science fair incident if Stanford was little more morally ambiguous and Stanley still cared more about his brother than anything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Times

Stan sat on the prow of the derelict Stan o’ War. His legs dangling over the sand. He watched the orange tip of his cigarette glow in the fading evening light. He had spent the last couple of hours getting everything ready for tonight and he was now taking the chance to relax. 

Stanford would be home soon, with news from the science fair. When he didn’t find Stan at home he would make his way to the beach. Ever since the boys had found the old sail boat it had been their special hideout. 

Stan fondly remembered their original dream upon finding it. They had wanted to fix the ship up and take it sailing. It turned out that making a ship sea worthy took more skills than two amateur ten year olds could amass. But they had kept the ship as their personal hangout. It made an excellent place for both boys to hide their less than legal activities. 

Stan was broken from his musing by the sound of footsteps on the wooden deck. “What’s the word Sixer?” Stan said, flicking his cigarette into the wet sands below. Standing he turned to face his brother.

Stanford stood just behind his brother, hands balled into fists. “Can you explain what this was doing next to my project?” Stanford demanded, a crumpled bag of toffee peanuts in one hand.

Stan raised his hands placatingly, alright so it looked like his original hope that the machine wasn’t actually broken that badly hadn’t panned out. That was fine, he had spent all evening preparing for this eventuality. It was onto Plan B. “Okay I might have accidently been horsing around.”

“This was no accident, Stan. You did this, you broke my machine. You couldn’t stand the idea of me going to college on my own.” Stanford shouted, grabbing the front of Stan’s white t-shirt and backing him towards the edge of the ship. 

“Okay Sixer, you’re right. I messed with your project. I am worried about you going off without me, but I would never do anything to prevent you from getting into your nerd school. It was an accident, you know I would never do anything intentional to hold you back. I want to get out of this backwards town as much as you do.”

Stan ran his hands soothingly along his brother’s arms. “Look, I know you’re upset about your project, and I am sorry. But I’ve got a surprise for you that will help you take your mind off stuff.”

“I don’t want to take my mind off stuff Stan. I want you to pay for ruining my dreams.”

“I know Sixer, I know. How about you come with me down into the boat and you see my surprise. I promise it will make you feel much better. And then tomorrow we’ll start looking for another nerd school for ya.”

Stanford still felt anger boiling under his skin, but he was starting to listen to his brother’s cajoling. Maybe it had only been an accident. Stan had known how important this scholarship was to Ford’s chances of getting away from their hometown. And Ford had been planning to ask Stan to join him, maybe not right away but definitely once he had graduated and settled down. There was no benefit to Stan to break Ford’s machine. 

“Alright Stan, show me your surprise. I’m still mad though, we’ll talk about this again later.” Ford said with a sigh, releasing his brother’s shirt. 

“Awesome, thanks Sixer. You won’t regret it.” Stan said with glee. He ducked into his brother’s space giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before heading towards the back of the boat. “I am really sorry about yer project, you know. That school was totally your uber nerd dream, you deserved to get in.”

“Yeah, Stan how about we don’t talk about my project or my dream school. That way I won’t have to hurt you.” Ford growled, following his brother into the cabin of the boat.

“Sorry, Sixer.” Stan said, shooting Ford a sheepish glance over his shoulder. “But I was worried you might feel like that way, so I got you something to hurt that isn’t my beautiful mug.”

“You knew this was going to happen?”

“Eh I wasn’t sure, and I had a bad feelin' about it. Your machine was still working when I left last night but it seemed a little weak. I snagged you gift just in case. I figured if nothin' went wrong it could a celebratory thing. But if somethin' did go wrong it would be a good way take yer mind off things.”

Ford paused at Stan’s first statement, something's weren’t adding up. Stan claimed the machine had still been working when he left it last night. It was a perpetual motion machine, the thing wouldn’t have just stopped on its own. Maybe Stan was telling the truth and something else was going on here.

“Wait Stan, what do you mean the machine was still working? You need to tell me exactly what happened last night.”

“Shh Ford, I thought we agreed to talk about this later. Anyway we’re losing time.”

Ford sped down the ladder to Stan’s side. Taking in the sight before him. Tied up on the table that Ford had been using for dissections for years was their childhood bully, Crampelter. The bully was wearing nothing but his boxers and his shouts were currently gagged by his own socks. Thick rope secured the boy’s legs and arms. 

Ford turned slowly to Stan, hardly wanting to tear his eyes away from this offering laid out before him. “You, you did this Stan? You caught Crampelter for me?” 

“Course I did Sixer, I know you’ve been wantin' to try out some of your techniques on an actual person, and well I figure you’re ready.”

“Stan, thank you so much. This is amazing.” Ford gushed, wrapping his brother in a hug. 

Stan chuckled, returning his brother’s hug. He was just pleased that his brother was happy, he knew this would be the best way to take Ford’s mind off the science fair. He broke the hug with his brother and grabbed a scalpel from where it rested on the table. 

“Here ya go, Fordsy. I can’t wait to see what you’re gonna do with this canvas.” Stan said, handing Ford the scalpel. 

Ford grinned running his thumb along his favorite blade cradled in his hand. Stan had stepped back and was now leaning against a wall. Hungrily watching his brother work. Ford leaned over Crampelter, to be sure the other boy knew exactly who he was. 

"Looks like you were right all about me all along Crampelter. It’s a real shame, huh." Ford said, spite dripping through his tone. Crampelter had been quiet after the first hour or so but upon seeing Stan and Ford again he had begun to struggle. Muffled curses and yelling came from his mouth. 

Ford tsked the captive boy gently. "My, my you've sure got a mouth on you. It's a good thing you're gagged, I’m sure I wouldn't be happy with what you're saying. Probably make me angry and then who knows what might happen." Ford grinned as the blade in his hand glinted. 

He set about his methodical cuts along the bully's body, starting at his chest and working his way out. Ford hummed quietly while he worked, completely lost in the moment.

He sliced random geometric patterns into the bully's skin. And carefully pealed back skin and muscle layer by layer to see what exactly was underneath. Blood flowed from the cuts and he watched it ooze and pool in the hollows of the other boy's body. 

When he worked his way out to them, he spent extra time on Crampelter’s hands since that was what the bully had always focused on in his teasing. Who was the freak now, he thought gleefully slashing deeply into the boy’s palms. 

"Maybe I'll have Stan go find some spare fingers and sew them onto your hands. Give you a taste of being a six fingered freak." Ford muttered as he worked. Crampelter's eyes rolled with fear and his struggling briefly increased. 

Stan watched completely mesmerized as his brother worked. He always enjoyed watching Ford. His brother was all focus and control in these moments. And Stan sometimes imagined what it would be like to be on that table himself. To put his life in his brother’s hands. Feel Ford kiss his skin with that scalpel that was basically an extension of his hand by now.

Maybe he enjoyed these moments a little too much he thought, as he felt a warmth build in his stomach and his cock stir with interest. But his brother looked incredibly seductive leaning over his victim, testing and prodding the cuts to see the pain on Crampelter’s face. 

Stan tried to surreptitiously reach down and adjust himself. Give himself a little breathing room, and make it not so evident he was getting aroused. He couldn't stop the quiet groan that slipped out from the brief contact. He thought he had been doing a good job hiding this particular interest from Ford. Normally he was able to wait until after they had cleaned up, and he had the privacy of the shower at home.

Ford glanced back when his brother made a small noise. He took in Stan's lust blown eyes and bowlegged stance that was doing little to hide his growing erection. Despite Stan's best efforts, Ford hadn't missed Stan's arousal to these particular activities in the past. And while he generally had no interest in sex he cared deeply for his brother and would have happily helped Stan any way he could. That's what Stan did for him, it seemed simple enough to return the favor. But he also knew Stan worried about how society would view them, and that Stan somehow thought incest was worse than six fingers or enjoying cutting things open.

"Stan," Ford called out watching his brother. Stan's head jerked up to meet Fords gaze, his breath came in short pants.

"Hehe, sorry about this Ford." Stan said, embarrassment heating his neck and cheeks. "I know it’s wrong and all, but god you look so good right now."

"Stanley, come here." Ford said his voice becoming more gravelly. He stripped the rubber glove from his left hand and tossed it aside. 

Stan whimpered at his brother's tone, but he had never been able to ignore Ford and he moved to his side. 

Ford pulled his brother against him, wrapping his arms around Stan from behind. This left Stan trapped between his bother and the table that contained their childhood bully. 

"Don't apologize Stan, you never have to apologize to me. You know that." Ford said, working Stan's pants open with his ungloved hand. His right hand still held the scalpel and he trailed it along Crampelter's skin. Not hard enough to cut, but simply to toy with the other boy.

Stan stopped trying to hold back his noises as he felt Ford's hand open his pants and free his cock. He couldn't believe that they were doing this, really doing it. Ford's hand wrapped loosely around Stan's cock and he bucked at the sensation. It was better than his own hand, better than he had imagined.

"Easy, Stan." Ford murmured in his brother's ear. He waved the scalpel in front of Stan's nose. "We have to be careful, you wouldn't want to accidently cut yourself."

A keening noise rose in Stan's throat at this. But his hips stilled and he let his twin set the pace. Ford's hand stroked lazily down his cock, teasing the head, before making its way back up. Ford had gotten his hand wet from the bucket of water to speed the process along. But Stan imagined the liquid was something else. As he watched his brother cut feather light incisions into the quivering flesh before them, he lost himself in a fantasy of his brother dipping his six fingers into those cuts and using Crampelter’s blood to get Stan off. 

Ford was mesmerized as he pleasured Stan, drinking in the many noises his brother was making. Ford loved taking things apart. It’s what drew him to mysteries and puzzles. It’s why he found himself fascinated by living things. Taking his knife to them and opening them up to see how they ticked. He also loved the control it gave him over the life beneath him. He decided what would happen next.

But he could never take his knife to Stan, never to his twin, his other half. So to watch Stan fall apart this way. Come undone under Ford’s hands, was the next best thing. Each breathy gasp, and hitched whine were because of him, they were for him. He had never thought much about sex, but this. This was something else entirely. He was already coming up with more ways of exploring this new ability to give Stan pleasure. 

Before Ford could be completely lost in what he was doing to his brother, Crampelter managed to regain Ford’s attention. The bound boy had begun to shout and gotten louder after Ford had called Stan over. Out of curiosity Ford reached up and sliced the cloth gagging Crampelter, letting the other boy spit it from his mouth. 

“I was right about you, about both of you. You’re disgusting freaks.” Crampelter shouted as soon as his mouth was free. “Faggy freaks, can’t even find someone other than your own brother to fuck you.”

Stan had been pulled from the haze of pleasure by Crampelter’s shouting. The part of him that agreed with the bully, that knew that his feelings for Ford were wrong, made him want to fling himself away from his brother. He let out a quiet whimper and tried to wiggle away from Ford. But Ford only tightened his hold on Stan and didn’t let up. 

Ford felt anger bubble under his skin at the bully’s words and how they had made Stan react. His thoughts whirled. How dare Crampelter continue to judge them? How dare he spew hate here in Stan and Ford’s sanctum? How dare he make Stan feel bad about this? Stan had often been the one protecting Ford from similar words but now something protective in Ford was rearing its head. This time he would protect Stan. Ford was in control here and Crampelter would do well to remember it. 

With a snarl Ford lashed out with his right hand. Dragging the scalpel violently through Crampelter’s throat cutting off the angry words the boy had continued to shout. As Crampelter choked and spluttered around the blood filling his throat, Ford tightened his grip on Stan’s cock.

The increased pressure caused Stan to cry out. Watching Ford mutilate their captive, made Stan unable to still his hips any longer. He thrust into Ford's hand with abandon. He came with stuttering gasps as the blood sprayed from Crampelter's throat. 

Ford kept his hand around Stan's cock as he came. Milking him through his orgasm. Cum splattered his hand and striped the table in front of them. When Stan had finished Ford gently turned his brother to face him. Again marveling in the control Stan had given him in that one act. Stan shuffled in his embrace, eyes downcast.

"Hey," Ford said, tugging Stan's face to look at his own. "You better not be listening to that moron. Remember what you're always telling me. 'As long as it feels good, there's nothin' wrong with what you're doing.' Well the same applies here. There's nothing wrong with us, either of us."

Stan's face brightened with Ford's words. As his reassurances trailed off Stan leaned in to place a chaste kiss against his brother's lips. Ford met him halfway, deepening the kiss. Both boys stayed like this for a while riding their mutual highs.

Finally Stan pulled away. "C'mon, Sixer. Enough bein' sappy, we got get this cleaned up before we're in real trouble."

The brothers pulled apart and went about cleaning themselves up. Stan glanced regretfully at the corpse on the table.

"I'm sorry if I caused you to cut things short." Stan said, chuckling at his own joke.

"Nonsense," Ford replied, from where he was gently cleaning and stowing his scalpel. "I was pretty much done, and the experience was rather exhilarating. I would like to record the data I got, it would be useful for future specimens."

"Course you would, Poindexter." Stan said with a shake of his head. He let Ford's blabbering wash over him, grounding him in the here and now. This was helpful because his thoughts kept threatening to take him back to what he and Ford had just done.

The two boys collected any items of personal value from the old wreck before Stan produced a couple of cans of gasoline. They spread the liquid liberally around the corpse and then around other parts of the ship. 

"You wanna do the honors?" Stan asked, producing a cheap lighter from his pocket. 

"I think you should," Ford replied, catching his brother’s free hand in his own. 

"I know we've been talking about this for a while. But it still seems a shame. Lotta good memories on this old gal." Stan said. He watched the flame of the lighter flicker.

"You're right though, there's too much evidence here. Better to get rid of it now, and start fresh once were out of this dump," Ford said. 

"Two more weeks, and then we'll be outta here," Stan agreed. Ford squeezed Stan's hand as his brother tossed the lighter into a pool of gasoline on the ship's deck.

The gasoline caught fire with a whumph, flames licking all over the old ship. The flames flickered blue and green as the salt filled wood caught fire. 

"It’s beautiful," Stan said, wonder thick in his voice. "A fitting end for the old girl."

Ford hummed his agreement. As Stan watched the fire lick its way along the ship, Ford turned so he could watch his brothers face. He memorized Stan's expression, and the way the light danced across his face. That warm protective feeling filled him again, and he felt as if he would do anything to keep his brother looking that way. 

Soon the fire began to die, most of its fuel consumed. 

"Come on, Stan. We need to get home. Pops will be livid if he catches out this late." Ford said tugging his brother away from the dying embers. 

"Alright, Sixer cool your jets, I'm comin'."

The boys raced each other from the cave, past the rickety swing set, back to the lookout where Stan's car was parked. They tumbled into the front seat, laughing and just generally exhilarated at what they had gotten away with. Stan hesitated before turning on the car, leaning across the front seat he pulled Ford into a chaste kiss. Smiling as he pulled away. 

"Dunno how I got so lucky," Stan mumbled against Ford's lips. 

Ford blushed and squeezed Stan's hand, at a loss for words but in full agreement with his brother’s sentiment


	2. Found Out

Two weeks passed slowly for the Pines twins. The days were full of frenzied activity. Working on last minute projects to get grades up, clinching the valedictorian slot for Stanford, and getting Stanley to the point of passing so he could get his degree. The brothers also spent copious amounts of time at the library looking for schools that Ford could apply to. They had narrowed it down to a list of three that had rollling applications and were still accepting. They would provide Ford with a decent education. It helped that they were also quite far from New Jersey. 

They spent the rest of the time keeping heads down. Crampelter's disappearance hadn't gone unnoticed. And while no one had connected it to the fire on the beach yet, both were being investigated so it was really only a matter of time before someone put two and two together. 

This was most difficult for Ford since it meant a loss of his preferred destressing activity at a time when his stress couldn't be higher. Stan was more than happy to show his brother some of his preferred stress relieving activities. Ones that involved two people, but fewer knives than Ford was used to.

Of course their luck ran out the night before graduation. 

Stanley lay on the couch playing paddle ball while some mindless show played in the background. He couldn't believe how close he and Ford were to getting out of this dump of a town. All they had to do was sit through the stupid ceremony tomorrow because Sixer insisted on it and they would be free to jet whenever they wanted. 

He was so grateful that Ford had listened to him about the science fair project. The brothers had realized someone else had been involved with actually breaking the project. They hadn't been able to catch the jerk, but Stan knew if anyone fessed up before he and Ford hit the road they would be in for a world of hurt. Stan would probably make sure they were still alive for his brother to play with once he was through with them.

His train of thought was broken by loud shouting coming from the stairs that led to the pawn shop. Since their father often got loud when arguing with a costumer or business associate Stan didn't think anything of it. Until the shouting got closer and Stan recognized the second voice. 

"I know what you did, you little piece of shit," Filbrick snarled as he backed Ford into the living room. 

"Pops, calm down, I have no idea what you're talking about." Ford said his hands raised in submission. He stumbled slightly has he moved backwards away from his father.

"Don't play stupid with me, boy. They found the body of that missing kid in the ashes of you knuckleheads' boat wreck. Do you think I’m too stupid to realize what you did?" Filbrick was practically foaming at the mouth showing more emotion than either twin was used to seeing.

"How long until someone else realizes you’re the likely suspect too, huh? How long until the cops are knocking on my door? What do you think the neighbors will think of that?" Filbrick shouted as he grabbed Ford and pushed him hard against the wall. He shook the boy as he continued to snarl. "I shoulda realized those six fingers were a bad sign. Couldn't keep your freakiness under wraps, had to go and act on it."

Filbrick raised his fist to take a swing at Ford but was knocked to the side by Stan. The two of them tumbled to the ground, Stan pushing his father away from Ford. 

"Leave him alone," Stan growled.

"I shoulda known you were in on this," Filbrick snarled. He pushed Stan to his feet and started wailing on the boy. "Bet you helped the little freak didn't you? He couldn’t’ve done it on his own, and you’re a big enough knucklehead do whatever he says."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up. Don't you dare call him that." Stan yelled. He swiped at his father, finally using his boxing lesson to stand up to the man.

The two traded blows and grappled, knocking furniture askew. The noise brought the boys' mother into the room, the squalling baby on her shoulder. 

"What's going on here? Filbrick, what are you doing to our little Stanley?" She questioned from the doorway too afraid to get between her husband and son. She tried to quiet the baby's cries, worried about her husband’s anger turning towards them. 

"Shut it woman," Filbrick snarled as he used his greater weight to knock Stan to the ground again. "You don't know what these two knuckleheads did, and I don't want hear you protecting this little nancy again."

Filbrick stood over Stan, breathing heavily. "I'll deal with you as soon as I've beaten some sense into your freak of a brother." He snarled as he pulled his belt free from his pants. 

He turned to where Ford had been left leaning against the wall when Stan hit Filbrick. Ford had vanished, and Filbrick let out a low growl turning to look for him. He gave Stan a swift kick in the side when he couldn't find Ford despite his wife's cry. Stan slumped back to the ground from where he had been struggling to get up. 

"Looks like, the six fingered freak took off and left you to take your beatings alone. How typical." 

"Leave him alone!" Ford called from across the room. He faced his father with one of the large knives from the kitchen.

"Oh ho, look who’s decided to get a back bone and fight his own battles. What do you think you're doin' with that thing, boy?" Filbrick growled as he circled away from Stan and towards Ford. 

"Don't you want to know what I did to that boy on the boat, father?" Ford asked his tone dangerously low. "Don't you want to know what a freak like me can do to someone whose been tormenting them their whole lives?"

Filbrick bellowed as he got close enough to Ford to swing his belt at him. Ford danced deftly out of the way, his boxing lesson not having gone to waste either. They went back and forth, Ford took a couple or solid hits from the belt. As Filbrick raise his arm to swing his belt again, Ford darted in close enough to dig the knife into his father. The larger man let out a shout and stumbled backwards clutching at the wound. Ford didn't let up however and followed after. Plunging the knife into his father again and again. 

"That's for all the beatings, that’s for all the name calling, and that's for Stan," Ford snarled has he dug the knife in one last time.

He sat back on his heels looking at the dead body that had been his father. Pulling the knife free, he shook his head. "What a waste," he mumbled before spitting once on the corpse.

Turning to where Stan lay he saw their mother leaning over his brother. 

"Get away from him," Ford bit out. 

Blood splattered with a bloody knife in hand made him a frightening sight. Their mother scrambled away from the twins still clutching the wailing baby. 

"Please, Stanford, sweetheart, Stanley's hurt pretty badly..."

"Shut up," Ford said interrupting her. "I don't want to hear any of your lies right now. Don't pretend to care."

Ford leaned next to Stanley, gently pushing his brother to get up.

"Wh-what did you do, Sixer?" Stan mumbled taking in his brother bloody appearance.

"I had, had to stop him Stan. He had to be stopped, he was hurting you, calling you those names." Ford was beginning to shake, the knife clattered from his hand. 

"Easy, Sixer, easy. Don't worry, no one can blame ya. I'll take care of this." Stan soothed. He winced at the pain as he shifted to sit next to his trembling brother. "Go upstairs, grab our bags, we're gettin' outta here tonight."

"But--" Ford began.

"Shut it, Poindexter. You heard Pops people are gonna figure out the stuff on the beach. And between that and tonight we don't want to stick around for questions, we'll figure somethin' out."

Ford nodded briskly as he hurried upstairs to his and Stan's room.

Stan surveyed the room, shaking his head at the damage that had been caused. A tiny wail turned his attention back to his mother and the baby. 

"P-please, Stanley, sweetheart. Don't let your brother hurt us. Stanley, please, think of the baby."

Stanley knelt gingerly by his mother again wincing at the pain. "Ma hush, don't worry it’s gonna be alright. Fords not gonna hurt ya."

Stan reached for the baby. His mother briefly clutched the child tighter to her, before letting Stan take him. She trembled like a leaf as she watched her sons, worried what Stan might do. She knew at this point she couldn't stop the twins and was at their mercy. 

Stan cradled the baby and bounced him once or twice in his arms. He cooed and made silly faces at his baby brother and calmed his cries. The baby quieted looking up at Stanley and gurgling happily. Stan took in the sweet sight, before scooping the knife up from where Ford had dropped it, and looking back up at his mother.

"Ma, I'm real sorry about this," Stan began.

"Please, Stanley, please. Oh god, at least don't hurt the baby." She begged as tears began to stream down her face.

"Geez, wow calm down," Stan said blanching at his mother’s fear. "We're not gonna do anything to you or Shermy. Geez the only monster here was Filbrick and you should be thanking Ford for taking care of him."

"Look Ma, please look at me." Stan said. He waited for his mother to look up at him. Slowly he held the knife up, offering her the handle. "Look you gotta take this. You gotta tell them you stabbed Filbrick. Tell ‘em everything that happened. Just leave out what Fords been up to and say you stabbed that dick. They'll believe you, you can say you were protecting yourself and your kids. They won’t treat you like they'll treat Ford."

Stan looked at his mother with a pleading expression. She whimpered quietly shaking her head.

"Stanley, I-I can’t. Your brother, h-he isn't right, Stan, he's sick."

Stan felt anger bubbling in his veins. "No, you can’t think that too. You don't mean that, Fords a genius you all know that. He just, just has a different way of expressing himself." His voice was rising and he felt himself starting to shake. His grip on the knife and the baby tightened, causing the baby to cry out quietly. 

The tiny wail stopped Stan's anger from boiling over. He bounced the baby once or twice to calm it. 

"Please Ma, please."

Their mother glanced between Stan, the baby, and the knife. 

"Okay, Stanley. I'll do it. You just gotta promise me you'll keep Stanford out of trouble, okay. You look out for your brother."

A large grin lit up Stan's face as he passed her the baby and the knife. 

"Of course, Ma, I'll look after him. I always will. Just like you always told me."

Stan leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before doing the same to the baby. It took all of her willpower not to pull away or lash out at her son with the knife in her hand.

Their awkward tableau was broken by Ford returning from upstairs, still in his bloody clothes. 

"I tossed the bags out the back window, figured we'd look less suspicious and can grab them later." Ford said, taking in his mother and brothers.

"Good thinkin', Sixer," Stan said his grin never wavering. "C'mon we gotta hit the road before the cops show. Say bye to Ma and Shermy."

Ford closed the distance between the stairs and his family, taking Stan's outstretched hand. He locked eyes with their mother, before glancing at the baby. His free hand reached up and trailed through the baby's downy fluff. 

"Be good for Ma, Shermy. Sorry about Pops but you'll probably thank us later." Stan murmured.

This time their mother did shift away causing the Ford's hand to fall to his side. She moved towards the body of her husband, not looking at either of her older boys.

"You better get going."

"Thanks Ma, love you. We'll be sure to write." Stan hollered over his shoulder as he dragged Ford towards the door. 

When they got to the street a crowd had formed around the Pines Pawn shop, drawn by the shouting and loud noises. The twins leaned heavily on one another, heading for Stan’s parked car.

“Oh god, please you gotta call the cops send help. He went mad, h-he’s gonna kill her. Ple-please someone’s gotta help.” Stan wailed from where he hung from his brother’s shoulder.

“What’s going on boys? What’s wrong?” The elderly man who ran the next door waffle house called to the twins. 

“It was Filbrick,” Ford said curtly. “He went berserk. He was wailing on Ma. Stan and I tried to pull him off her but he just turned on us. He hurt Stan pretty badly. Last we saw Ma was comin’ out of the kitchen. She told us to run.”

“We don’t know what happened,” Stan whimpered, “He just went nuts, we’re so worried about Ma, an-and oh god the baby.”

Stan pulled away from Ford and back towards the house. He collapsed after a couple of steps, tears starting to fall from his eyes.

“Easy there, son. Don’t hurt yourself.” The elderly man said. Wailing sirens and flashing lights heralded the cops’ arrival. “Stanford take your brother to the hospital. The cops will take care of things here and we’ll let you know what happened.”

“I’ll do that, thank you very much,” Ford said, lifting Stan back up and into the passenger side of the car. Ford drove the car away before the cops could stop them. He could see the old man explaining things to the officers in the rear view mirror. 

They went around the block, stopping long enough for Ford to grab their bags from where he had stashed them in the back alley. He had to be careful with the cops crawling all over their house but no one inside bothered to glance out the windows.

They stopped at the beach long enough for Ford to patch Stan up. Then one last stop at their high school, before they were driving as fast and as far away from Glass Shards Beach as they could go. 

\---

The Pines family became the talk of the town. Husband beating his family, wife finally snaps and protects the children. The older kids, twin boys, hadn’t been seen since the incident. Everyone assumed they were too afraid to come back, unsure of what they would find left of their family. Which was a real shame since it left the baby to end up in the system after the wife was institutionalized. 

Her story never stayed the same. Sometimes she wasn’t even the one who killed her husband, occasionally blaming the twins. Even though she had been found standing over her husband’s dead body with the murder weapon in hand. The cops had finally decided she had suffered a mental break down after what her husband did and what she had done to protect her family. 

The news was so big it caused the story of the high school being broken into and a number of records being destroyed in a fire to be completely passed over. The records lost included most of the high school diplomas for the graduating seniors. An overworked secretary had to come in reprint the whole lot of them the next day.

The news from Glass Shard Beach even got its fifteen minutes of fame in the national spotlight. Though the case was pretty much open and closed, so it had all blown over by the end of the summer. Which was good for Ford Pines when he started school on the other side of the country at Backupsmore University that fall. He was just another face in a sea of freshmen.

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to Snow Baller Sin for the series name. I will admit naming things is not my forte, and I spend a ridiculous amount of time overanalyzing every title I come up with. Nice to have one be this easy for once.


End file.
